Not Alone
by somebodythatUusedtoknow
Summary: An abusive father. A broken consciousness. A faithful friend. Caleb experienced trauma and difficulties, but they are soon quenched by an unexpected surprise. DISCLAIMER : This is loosely based off of a comic strip, and is loosely based off of the actual FNAF4 game. All characters I make are fictional, except for few. Also, title is a memorial of my old Terraria FanFic.


Caleb reached over his diary page with a calloused hand and a fountain pen dipped with black ink. His father let him write and go outside. That was all. Caleb spent most of his time in his room writing in a diary page. Eventually when he grew up he would bring this diary to a physical therapist to fight the abusive memories implanted in his mind. His eye was blackened by a punch from his father. Eventually Caleb finished writing and looked at his work with a small bit of consciousness. It was just scrambled words and letters that he couldn't fathom. He was scoping the page, trying to decipher the words and symbols hopping out at him. He shivered due to a draft coming from the living area. His father knocked on the door and his heart pounded out of his chest. He was in his room, alone, cornered. He couldn't stand the abuse anymore. His father's hand became visible from the door as he slowly pushed it open. It seemed to go in slow motion as more parts of his body appeared in the bright light emitted from the ceiling lamp. His face came into view and finally his whole body came forward. Caleb stared into his father's deep brown eyes as he approached him. He closed his eyes and braced for another impact when he suddenly stopped in his tracks. He looked concerningly at Caleb and said in his raspy voice. "Dinner.". Caleb looked at his father as if he was waiting for the usual. He followed his father out of the cramped room and sat at the end of the table. If his father jumped at him or tried to hit him he could easily get out of the chair and retreat to his room. His father put a platter in front of him. It had a chicken wing and some rice and peas on it. Caleb looked at the horrid cooking and pushed it away. His father's head jolted up at him from his plate and his eyes narrowed. Then they started to get that angered look Caleb dreaded. His father pushed his chair back and stood. "You don't want it?", he questioned Caleb as he rounded the table. Caleb slowly nodded his head. His father shook his head. "You WILL eat this chicken that I made for you, god damnit!" Caleb denied this once again and his father broke. He slowly approached Caleb. "No..? NO?! You understand how much I SACRIFICED FOR YOU, LITTLE SHIT!? YOUR MOTHER LEFT YEARS AGO AND HERE I AM, TRYING TO BE A SUCCESSFUL FATHER! She left me for someone else.. HELL, SHE LEFT ME FOR A FUCKING BARTENDER!". His father flipped the table in rage and shoved Caleb off of his chair onto the floor. Caleb rolled backwards and his father shoved his heel into his gut, killing his wind and making him regurgitate his breakfast. He wrapped his hands around his jeans and removed his belt, fiercely whipping Caleb 10 times with it before his rage subdued. His father looked down at Caleb and then to his hand, holding the belt, knuckles white. "Caleb, I-". His father dropped the belt and knelt down near Caleb. He grabbed Caleb's tender hand and pulled him up. He awkwardly wrapped his hands around Caleb's torso and tightened his hold. It was somewhat of a hug. Caleb knew this routine well. After one of his fits, his father would hug him, tell him he was sorry, all that amateur shit that Caleb hated with his heart. If his father really loved him, there wouldn't be welts on his stomach. If his father loved him, his face would be pure and clean. If his father loved him, the kids at school wouldn't be worried about him. There were a lot of things that would change if his father loved him. There would be no alcohol bottle by the couch cushions. The television wouldn't be broken. His father would be normal. Caleb squirmed out of the hug and backed into his room, down the hallway. He shut the door and sulked to his bed, laying down on it. Then the tears came. They always came after the abuse and the hugs. He looked up, tears streaming down his cheeks, now a bright red coloring, and saw his plushie. A golden bear with a purple hat and bow tie. It wasn't awake right now, but would be if it heard Caleb crying. Caleb needed a break from talking to Fredbear. It seemed to make things worse. So, Caleb resorted to dimming the lights and resting in complete darkness. He could hear his father stumbling outside, then eventually resigning to the couch cushions. After he heard this sound of security, Caleb drifted to sleep, and would not be woken until early next morning.


End file.
